Adversary
by jade
Summary: AU. To please his family, he let them make him into what they wanted him to be. Resentment was only a fleeting thing, but what he always thought of as his whole world is about to come crashing down around him. Complete.
1. Part the First

Welcome to the third story in the _Inferiorum_ series. (**Heretic** is number two and **Doppelganger** is number one.) But if you haven't read those stories, never fear! For you can read this one first and the other two later—and it won't spoil what happened in them. (Although, I think it's always good to read the things in order…but you do what you want.) But, if you've already read those stories, then that's cool too and I'd like to welcome you back for yet another one…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Death, murder, and some other stuff.

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Adversary

Part the First

"Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo."

_("If I cannot change the will of Heaven, I'll raise Hell.")_

_

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_

Draco Malfoy was most well-known for killing his brother.

Of course, everyone knew the Malfoy family, knew how powerful they were and how wealthy they were. One need only mention that they were a Malfoy at any time or place and would instantly be given the finest of service. That was the way it had always been, even back before the fall of the King.

In truth though, the rumors that had spread about how Draco had pushed his older brother Lucius off the roof were lies. He had been on the roof that day, with his brother. He could remember that day perfectly in his mind.

_The wind swept through their hair and Draco tried not to shiver but it was cold. Lucius had taunted him about how he was too young and too much of a baby to come on the roof too, so of course, Draco had followed him. _

_ Lucius was seven years old and Draco was only five. But Lucius was the first-born son, which made him the heir and so Draco was supposed to do everything that Lucius said. They stood there on the cold stone that the roof of the manor was made of and Draco's hair was flying every which way in the wind. They stood there, looking at the lands around the estates. It swept out towards the horizon, where the grey clouds met the green land. _

_ It was overcast that day and Draco was sure it would start raining at any moment. _

_ "One day this is all going to be mine." Lucius gave him a superior look. "It's all going to belong to me, because _I'm _heir._"

_Draco said nothing, just stood there, looking out across the land. Near them, a bird cawed and he looked over to see it fixing its watchful eye on the two of them. Was it waiting for something? Lucius went on._

_ "Mother says that if you're an heir, you get everything and you can do anything you like." Lucius boasted to his silent brother. Draco, even then, knew that Lucius would like nothing better than to get a rise out of him but he knew it infuriated Lucius when Draco just stood there and looked at him coldly. Besides, this pronouncement couldn't possibly shake him—everyone knew Lucius was mother's favorite. Draco was no one's favorite, he was a non-entity. Second born son. "And I'm a Malfoy. Father says Malfoys are better than everybody." _

_ Draco had heard these same words, put far more eloquently by his father. Malfoys were further up, higher, closer to…to…to what? They were the most powerful family in the land, except maybe the Lestranges. What came after that? Outright sovereignty? Divinity? _

_ "Everyone will know who I am, but no one will know who you are." Lucius sneered at Draco. "I'm heir." That was Lucius favorite phrase. He didn't seem to know many others. _

_ "You sound like a parrot." Draco told him. Lucius looked triumphant, he was happy to get at least this much out of Draco—it meant that the little blonde boy was irritated with him. _

_ "Nothing is higher than me." Lucius stepped up on the ledge that separated them from the edge. He stood on that high railing and Draco watched him with a sober expression. Lucius on the rail. He'd always remember that. _

_ "That bird is higher up than you." Draco pointed out as the bird took off into the skies. _

_ "That doesn't count!" Lucius stomped his foot. "I can do anything. Absolutely anything. I'm special. I was meant to be like this, looking down on everyone." He turned to face the lands and away from Draco. "Bet you're scared to stand up here with me." _

_ "What happens if you fall?" Draco questioned him. _

_ "Ha! Even if I fell, nothing would happen to me. A Malfoy and an heir!" Lucius exclaimed gleefully. "I could jump. I could jump right now and nothing would happen. I would land because I can do anything." _

_ Draco didn't say anything and was about to turn away and go into the house when he realized that Lucius' legs were bending. He stood there and stared as Lucius leapt off the ledge. He rushed over to the ledge, even though it was too late to catch him. He wasn't so sure he _would _have caught him. But in the brief second, Lucius had turned in the air and Draco saw his face._

_ He knew he could fall and he knew what that fall would cost him. _

_ Being an heir isn't enough…not if you're a fool…_

_ He saw him land and stood there, watching over the ledge while people came rushing out of the manor and over to the boy, lying, unmoving on the ground. _

_ Why did you jump? Was it really to prove that you could? How could you be so sure…so sure that you took such a stupid chance?_

_ Strangely, even though he knew his brother was dead, Draco didn't feel anything. He knew then that he had not loved his brother at all and that his brother had not loved him. It was a very strange feeling because you were supposed to love those who share your blood. _

Everyone thought Draco had killed him. After all, he was up on the roof too; he had every reason to do it. He was the second born son, doomed always to be second in everything. It was a curse. Now he was the only son. He was the heir.

He would have denied it. He would have told them all that Lucius was stupid and had jumped of his own accord—they might not have believed him but he would know it was true. He would have if his father hadn't sent for him afterwards. His father, who shared the same name as his older brother, would surely be angry with him.

Instead, he was pleased. He patted Draco on the head and told him something that Draco never forgot.

_"You're a true Malfoy now."_

A true Malfoy. He had earned his place in the family. He would suddenly exist. Lucius was erased from memory; his father hadn't cared for him and had always thought that his first born son was a fool. But Draco was different, that much was clear. And killing his brother at such a young age…such ingenuity, such ambition!

He never denied it. He never could. It was the only reason he had been accepted in the world. Let them believe this lie, what harm could it do? So they whispered that he was a murderer, let them! He doubted that any of them could possibly know what it was like to not be heir, to not feel important at all. To be second-best.

Draco saw now change in his mother's behavior towards him. Lucius had been her pet and now her pet was dead. She treated Draco with the same dripping disdain she treated everyone with. There was nothing known as Love in the Malfoy family. There was only consequence. Do well, you are rewarded. Do wrong, you are punished.

But right and wrong were very different from what most people know them here.

Draco made his way to one of the huge balconies that his father usually took any company that came during the day. Today, there were guests and he would be expected, as heir, to make an appearance. He straightened his black coat, with the Malfoy crest embroidered on the left breast. It had silver buttons, which he was fond of. He had always liked silver more than gold. He caught sight of his reflection in a passing mirror and saw his light blonde hair and pale blue eyes—his mother and father (who had been cousins of some kind) had these same features.

A servant jumped to attention when they saw him coming and opened one of the doors out onto the balcony for him. Another grey day, but not nearly as grey as the day he saw his brother die. He shook that thought from his mind. There was no reason to dwell on such a thing.

"Good afternoon, father." Draco greeted his father formally. Lucius Malfoy and his father's guest, whom he only knew as 'Nott'. Lord Nott. But still just 'Nott', at least, that's what his father always called him. "Lord Nott." Nott was a stringy man, who was very unpleasant and always seemed to be currying for favor. Draco had to keep his lip from curling in disgust at the way Nott began to greet him, hoping he was in good health, and how much the young Master Malfoy had grown!

_Why doesn't father get rid of him? Surely he cannot be that useful…_

But Nott was the son of one of the important Death Eaters that had helped Voldemort come into power. And so his whole family had been rewarded—just as the Malfoys had been. Draco rolled his eyes and looked sideways. The servants were setting up archery.

"We thought we would have a little sport before tea." Lucius noticed the direction of his son's gaze, breaking into Nott's string of falling all over himself. The Malfoys were much more respected and feared than the Notts.

"I hear you're an excellent archer, young Master Malfoy." Nott looked like he thought Draco would be interested in Nott's opinion of anything. "I would be delighted—"

"Excellent is not the word I would use to describe it. He can hit the target if it's standing perfectly still." Lucius looked down at Draco, who scowled. He didn't want to reveal _why _he only shot at the still targets, like the trees or apples, or something of that nature. Doubtless, a _true _Malfoy would shoot at anything, if he decided it was a target.

"But he is so young and with discipline and training, I'm sure he'll get much better." Nott nodded eagerly.

"Spare me your talks of discipline. I heard your son ran away. Again." Lucius sneered.

"Ah, well," Nott looked troubled for a moment, his hands fumbling over themselves. "He's a boy and boys rebel, I'm sure it is nothing."

"Draco has never run away from _my_ house." Lucius declared, not in a way that was complimenting Draco—but complimenting himself. "He knows that if he were to run away, he would not be allowed back."

"Father, I would have to ask you what you would do then, without an heir to carry on the family name." Draco asked in his lazy drawl.

"You should know better than anyone that heirs can be replaced, Draco." Lucius replied coldly. Draco's mind had a sudden image of his brother's face as he fell. "Now, let us proceed to our sport for the afternoon."

Nott and his father picked up bows and began to knock arrows. Draco watched silently. There was some yelling as the servants brought out the targets. The _moving _targets.

Peasants.

They were worthless, they were easily replaceable. After all, that's all they did—breed. Some were children that had been living their lives as street urchins, some were criminals, and some were people who had accidentally wandered onto the Malfoy estate. Any traveler seeking lodgings usually found them—in the dungeons.

They were forced into lines and then they were supposed to run out, one at a time as a target. One ran out, hoping to perhaps outrun imminent death but Lucius loosed an arrow, which lodged itself in their back.

"Excellent shot!" Nott exclaimed. He turned towards Draco, who was watching with his usual cold, unwavering expression. "Young master Malfoy, would you like a shot?"

"No. They aren't much fun." Draco pretended that the whole affair was rather boring, instead of admitting that the sight of them shooting the people down…it was unsettling. Something stirred within him and he found himself unable to hit even one of them. "I have studying to do, father, may I be excused?"

"Go." Lucius waved a hand over his shoulder at Draco, his eyes still focused on the peasants. Draco turned and walked away. He could hear Nott calling him a "proper boy" to his father.

_That's right…a proper son and heir…_

He knew that when it was tea time, he would be sent for again, so they could sit there and have tea on the balcony, while the servants moved the corpses off the ground in front of them. His father would talk to Nott and Draco would be told not to slouch. His mother would sit there, looking at them all as if they were all slugs. All Draco had to do was go through the motions of the day; it didn't matter if he meant any of them, as long as he did them.

It was a tradition in the Malfoy family to treat everyone around as though you were waiting for them to put a knife in your back. Everybody's doors were always closed and locked. (Though Lucius may have done this because if he thought his son would kill his own brother, he would have no qualms about killing his father.) Everything about the house was unfeeling. From the large, impersonal dining hall that they had all their meals at—except breakfast, which was brought to each person's room, respectively—to the grounds that were devoid of anything cheerful. Just trees every now and then. The path down to the woods. Everything else was just flat field.

If enemies came for them, even from the woods, they would see them coming. The place was like a fortress. Indeed, sometimes Draco didn't even think of it as a house. In what house can you fall asleep, listening to the distant screams of people being tortured? In what house can you go into the library and read about a curse to make a person vomit their intestines?

Draco knew curses. He had to learn magic—well, the Dark Arts to be exact. It was expected of him and he was would sit there obediently and learn what he had to. He was of nobility and nobility had this privilege.

_"What would peasants do with magic?" Lucius asked him one day. "Their blood is sullied—they are unfit to do magic." _

Blood was important. Only if you had noble blood were you allowed to learn magic—and then only if you had a wand. Draco wondered sometimes, when he was alone, why, if it you had to be of noble birth to learn magic, were peasants born with the abilities as well?

Did it simply make him better?

_"Nothing is higher than me." _

In what house are you rewarded for killing your brother?

* * *

To Be Continued

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	2. Part the Second

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Voldemort, Malfoys family is messed up. The usual.

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Adversary 

Part the Second

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Draco knew Voldemort was coming. When the Dark Lord was coming, suddenly everyone was doing something, servants bustling about to make sure every inch of the house was looking its best, his mother ordering people about, his father doing much of the same. 

If Voldemort was coming though, that meant that some of the other families were going to gather there. This meant that Draco's only companions, Crabbe and Goyle were going to be there. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, neither was very quick or smart, nor did they like to do anything but what Draco would say they were going to do. They never had their own suggestions, they just followed him around. His father said it was only proper because as a Malfoy, his place was higher up than theirs.

Draco thought it was because Crabbe and Goyle were too thick to think of anything on their own. Of course, if the Dark Lord was coming, it meant that Draco himself had to be made ready. He was scrubbed by maids until he protested because they were turning his white skin pink, and then put in his best clothes, before being perfumed. Draco ordered them out on pain of death so that he could do his hair himself—they had never been able to get it right.

Then his mother collected him, so that he could be brought into the room that tea was being served in, and he could bow before the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord could make a comment about how he was growing properly and his father could look pleased. Then he was sent to go play with his friends. (His father said the word 'friends' like it was a joke. And he was right, Draco had never considered Crabbe and Goyle friends of any kind. They were just there to follow him around—they were lackeys.)

When he emerged from the tea room and saw the two of them, who were much taller and bigger than he was, they both straightened, waiting for orders. Draco examined the two, pacing back and forth in front of them, his left hand holding onto his right wrist behind his back.

"I wonder what they're talking about in there." Draco wondered out loud.

"They never tell us." Crabbe shrugged—that sort of thing wouldn't be interesting to him.

"Then we should spy on them." Draco decided. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other questioningly and then back at Draco. "I know how too. Follow me." The two obeyed as Draco spun on his heel—his shoes had just been shined to perfection so they made a very satisfying squelching noise—and led them around. There was a secret door that one could enter behind a tapestry. This led to a pair of peepholes—Draco knew they were the eyeholes of one of the paintings.

There they were. Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Nott, and Avery. Apparently the Lestranges couldn't make it. Others were missing as well. But these were the people who the Dark Lord seemed to like to meet with. The Dark Lord didn't reveal his face—and Draco had never seen it. He wore a hood that fell forward and cast his whole face in shadow. He had never had any desire to know what it was Voldemort was hiding.

"I hear that there is some sort of stirring in the North." Voldemort's voice was cold and inhuman. "If that fool Dumbledore thinks he can attack us, he will be sorely mistaken."

"Indeed my lord, indeed." Nott nodded his head eagerly. "Why, the strongholds we've built around the land far outnumber—"

"Silence, Nott." Voldemort spoke sharply and Nott immediately shut his mouth. Draco grinned despite himself. "This is no time for your sniveling. We must decide on a plan to defeat Dumbledore once and for all."

"We trapped him once." Lucius began, looking thoughtful. "Is it not possible to do it again?"

"He will be expecting something like that now." Voldemort commented icily. "But the Northern Mountains are home to the giants. They could be _persuaded_ with the right gifts…"

"Dumbledore isn't a complete fool—he's probably already made some pact with them." Avery pointed out. "We'd have to find out what he's offered them and offer one better."

"But the Northern Mountains are probably also teeming with Dumbledore's foolish followers." Lucius put in. "We wouldn't want to alert Dumbledore to the idea that we were dealing with his giants."

"It must be done quite delicately." Voldemort's voice was silky. "If we plan this properly, Dumbledore will not know a thing. I may to bring in…one of my informants."

"Let's go." Draco whispered to Crabbe and Goyle, who started to head out of the small secret passage that they had to stoop in. Draco tried to think of what they should do next and he also wanted to think about what he had just heard. Voldemort was worried about some man named Albus Dumbledore? Interesting. Draco didn't know very much about Voldemort, other than he was obsessed with immortality. A weakness at best.

The blonde-haired heir led the two other boys outside. Another grey day. There were too many of those. Draco informed them that they would go down the long path and into the woods. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to approve of this activity. They liked to go outdoors, Draco knew this. They also like to eat. It kept them occupied while Draco thought his own thoughts, walking ahead of the two, his left hand holding onto his right wrist behind him.

_I wonder who this Dumbledore is…_

_ And why Voldemort is worried at all…is it because Dumbledore could defeat him?_

Now that was an interesting thought. For how many times he had heard about how great the Lord Voldemort was and how powerful and dangerous, he had never heard about anyone defeating him.

Soon they were in the woods, going over the dirt floor, which was coated in a layer of pine needles, and rocks covered in moss. There was a lot of exploring to be done in any woods and Draco liked to get dirty only for rebellious purposes. (After all, those silly maids had scrubbed him far too pink for his liking.) Draco sat on one of the rocks while Crabbe and Goyle picked up two sticks and began sword-fighting each other. Didn't take much to keep them amused.

He didn't admit that he half wanted to join them but knew it wasn't becoming of an heir to the Malfoy family. He sat there with his hands cupped around his face, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring forward, but not watching the elaborate show that Crabbe and Goyle were putting on. (Crabbe had just broken Goyle's stick-sword in half and Goyle didn't stop fighting for a moment.)

After a bit, the two broke their swords again and discarded them to roll around, wrestling each other. Draco finally picked his head out of his hands.

"Knock that off." Draco told them and the two got up, brushing themselves off. He rolled his pale blue eyes at them. "Let's go to the river." All three set off again until they got to the 'river'. It was really more of a large stream but Draco knew that it joined another stream to become a river about a mile further on. Therefore, it has always been known as 'the river'.

Stepping on the stones and keeping his balance while Crabbe and Goyle kept falling off and falling into the knee deep water, he was trying to loose himself in what could only be described as 'playing', though he was truly just watching others play. He didn't know why he didn't indulge in this pastime, because he was a boy of twelve, so he wouldn't be acting immaturely…he just didn't.

He just stood there, going from rock to rock with that cool, unwavering expression. The same expression that was on his face as he watched his brother balance on the edge of the roof.

Draco just didn't feel much like smiling, he couldn't really feel the amusement in jumping from stone to stone, though his mouth had twitched when Crabbe fell off another stone into the water before pulling Goyle in too. Other boys might be worried that they would pull him in as well, but not Draco. He knew they wouldn't. Draco was about to step unto the next stone along the river when he looked down.

There was a frog there, half-smashed in. Its intestines were lying on the rock next to it and it was twitching and oozing horribly as its life ticked away. He looked at it and wondered what had happened. Had someone come along and smashed it with a rock? He squatted down to look at it.

Crabbe and Goyle waded over to see what it was as well. The three boys stared at the slowly dying frog, not doing anything. Crabbe and Goyle both squirmed, wanting to leave the frog and go on splashing each other but Draco was fascinated with it and if Draco wanted to sit and stare at the dying frog, then that was what they had to do. For what Draco didn't know was that Crabbe and Goyle's parents had told them was to always do 'everything the Malfoy boy tells you to do'. It was some unspoken command that they stand there with him.

Draco pulled out his wand, which he always carried with him and pointed it at the frog. Crabbe and Goyle waited for him to utter a spell, maybe one to kill the frog, who knew. Instead, the pale boy looked up at the two of them.

"What's the spell for healing things?" Draco questioned them. Goyle and Crabbe looked at each other, looking for the answer on the other one's face. All three had studied magic so one of them had to know.

"There's not a spell for healing things." Goyle answered slowly. Draco thought hard, but all his lessons in magic were the Dark Arts—spells for hurting others, spells for killing, spells of destruction. But nothing of creation. Nothing of healing or…or anything like that.

It was at that moment that Draco realized something.

_There are two sides to magic…the Dark Arts, and then the other stuff, the stuff that my father says I won't need to know. But is that wise to go with and not the other? Wouldn't knowing them both be more useful? _

_ Is one side of magic more powerful than the other?_

_ Or are they both needed?_

They stood there and watched until the frog took its last breath. Draco could do nothing for it. He could ease its pain by killing it quicker but even that felt difficult at the moment. The side that his father was on, that Voldemort was on, that Draco had always counted himself on had always talked about its strength to kill and destroy.

But yet, Voldemort's ultimate goal was to become immortal. To cheat Death altogether. So…so…

_Which side is closer to immortality? _

_ "I could jump. I could jump right now and nothing would happen. I would land because I can do anything." _

_ You thought it was impossible for you to die…and then you did. _

_ Did that frog know it would die? And what was it thinking in those last few moments as I watched it die?_

Crabbe and Goyle sensed Draco's solemn nature and there was no more friendly shoving and messing around. They went back up to the manor, Draco's eyes on the ground in front of him. He was beginning to think about whether or not he was on the right side. He had no way of knowing. He didn't even know what the other side was like. Did they run on such strange logic as well? What separated them?

He thought of the peasants who were forced to run across the fields while his father shot at them idly. What were their terrified thoughts as they ran with all their might? That they could outrun the arrows? That they could outrun fate itself if they ran fast enough?

Perhaps Voldemort was no better than those peasants, trying to outrun death but never making it. Maybe it was an impossibility. This thing called immortality sounded like a fool's dream, something no one could have. If you only believed that this dark magic could give you what you wanted, then you had to be a fool. Because the Dark Arts had not held what Draco had asked for at that moment down at the river, crouching over that dying frog. It had nothing to make the vital ooze and organs rearrange themselves and put themselves back into the body before the skin sealed itself up.

The Dark Arts couldn't save a person.

When they re-entered the castle, his mother was there to tell him off for getting his best clothes dirty, and to tell off Crabbe and Goyle for being soaking wet and tracking mud onto her expensive rugs. These small bits of rebellion made Draco feel a bit of satisfaction. All he did was please his parents, it was nice to do something that had the opposite effect every once and awhile.

They were sent to the maids for another quick scrub—which Draco fought as hard as he could during—and then into new clothes before going to sit with the adults. The Dark Lord had left and Draco was glad he had because he didn't like the idea that someone was looking at him and he couldn't tell.

As they were ushered into the rooms, he saw Nott deep in discussion with his father. Well, Nott was prattling and his father was nodding his head. Draco crept closer so he could hear about what.

"…again! I know that you wouldn't allow such behavior and he's become so unruly…" Nott trailed off when he noticed Draco was standing near enough to hear. "So, that's why I'm requesting your help."

"I'll see what I can do." Lucius also noticed Draco. "There you are, boy. I hear you've been rolling around in the muck like some peasant boy."

"I was hardly rolling. We just went for a walk out in the woods." Draco flicked a stray blonde hair into place. "You know how mother feels about the smallest bit of dirt…"

"Then I would suggest you not give your mother an excuse to make you sound like a barnyard animal." Lucius' cool gaze didn't faze Draco in the least.

_I know that our side has weaknesses. _

_ That we have false confidence, like my brother standing on that edge…and false confidence can kill. _

"As you wish, father." Draco's reply held the slightest bit of mockery in it. Lucius' eyes narrowed the smallest bit and Draco knew he father was looking for something to call him out on. Draco turned his gaze over to Crabbe and Goyle who were loading plates full of cakes over at the table, stuffing the small cakes into their mouths whole.

"Young Master Malfoy, I'm sure you would enjoy having a playmate your own age around." Nott began in but Lucius glare cut him off.

"Draco is not the decision maker in this household." Lucius' gaze turned to Draco who stared back steadily. "Nor does he have any weight in decisions that are made. I told you I would think about it."

Draco was curious to know what it was that they were talking about but knew that asking wouldn't help him. His father would probably just sneer at him. Well, let him. Draco wasn't half bad at sneering himself.

His mind wandered back to that frog and his brother. The expression on his brother's face and the way the frog's eyes goggled. Perhaps at the very moment when Draco saw them, they knew that they were just minute things in the grand scheme of things. That they weren't nearly as important to the universe as they had thought. And maybe that was the idea that had scared them the most. The realization that they had no more real power to stop events as anything else.

And perhaps it helped Draco also see his limitations. That he could not save either one from death. That he hadn't been able to stop the inevitable. The idea was terrifying. That his fate was in everyone else's hands. Did he trust anyone else with it?

Sometimes our fear can become our strength.

* * *

To Be Continued

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	3. Part the Third

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Some disturbing talk, more about death…The Lestranges are in this chapter and believe me, that needs its own warning.

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Adversary

Part the Third

* * *

It was kept a secret from him for a month after the day he watched the frog die. He could tell something was going on. He heard people whispering and he could just feel that something was going to happen. Something was coming. Change.

It was the same sort of day that Draco usually woke up to. A maid came in and brought in his breakfast, opening the heavy curtains that covered his window during the night. Draco would insist she leave so he could have some breakfast. She would leave and he would slide out of bed, his feet going in his slippers, and then he would slip on his silk dressing gown.

He ate breakfast, contemplating what he would do that day. He had lessons but after lessons, perhaps he could practice his archery on targets that weren't running and screaming for mercy. He could shoot at the trees in the apple orchard. That would suit him just fine.

Draco had his bath for the day and then allowed himself to be dressed in his normal attire for the day. As he combed his hair by himself he surveyed it carefully to make sure it didn't need to be trimmed. He didn't let anyone trim his hair for him anymore—they sometimes did it wrong and he was the only one who truly knew exactly how he wanted his hair cut.

It would be time for lessons soon and so he would sit there, idly passing the time by half reading a textbook and half watching the sky out the window. Nothing interesting on either side. Then he heard a noise and picked himself up to look at the window properly.

A black carriage was coming down the drive. The Dark Lord sometimes came in a black carriage but most of the time he just appeared. Draco watched it, his expression unchanging even though he wanted to know who was in this carriage. A maid came in and told Draco that his father had sent for him. If Lucius Malfoy sent for someone, it was _not _a request.

He followed the maid not to his father's study as he expected, but downstairs, into the main foyer, where his mother and father stood waiting. Draco approached, the maid excusing herself quickly.

"Yes, father?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Clearly something was happening and he had no knowledge of it beforehand. He hoped that it wasn't the Lestranges. He loathed Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus. Aunt Bellatrix always talked about what a delicious looking boy he was while petting his head and looking at him like she actually was commenting on how good he would taste when she later tried to eat him. His aunt and uncle seemed quite capable of doing such a thing. So did Uncle Rodolphus' equally unappetizing brother Rabastan who was always trying to get Draco on his own and had almost succeeded a few times, had Draco's own father not interfered.

"We'll be greeting a house guest and it's only appropriate that you are here to do so." Lucius informed his son. A house guest. It could very well be the Lestranges. He tried not to shudder.

The doors opened and in walked Nott, Draco cringed. He couldn't stand Nott's sniveling, always currying for favor, and the like. If he was the house guest, then Draco hoped he was only a house guest for a very short amount of time.

But there was someone behind Nott, a smaller person, someone Draco's age, which immediately peaked his interest because he had never met him. He was obviously related to Nott, they had some of the same features, the blonde hair, and the blue eyes (though not pale like Draco's, more of a piercing dark blue). Draco wondered if the Notts were also related to the Malfoys somehow. There was probably very few families not connected with the Malfoys through some relation or another. He was very skinny and he hunched over, a bit like his relative, but not in an attempt to make himself smaller like Nott did, but in an attempt to hide himself.

There were several other differences as well. Nott had that weak, watery sort of look to him and he had that stupid smile to his face, even when he was told to shut up but this boy was glaring at them all like he hated them all already.

"Stand up straight Theodore." Nott told the boy. The boy straightened only a little and still glared defiantly at everyone around him. "Lucius, this is my son, Theodore." Lucius gave Theodore his most condescending look, one that usually made most servants' knees shake. Theodore continued to look at him with hate-filled narrowed eyes. Lucius didn't seem to like that at all. Draco hid a smile he knew was trying to creep up on his face. Not many people could stand up to Lucius Malfoy the way that Theodore was. He had Draco's instant respect.

"As you know, I am Lucius Malfoy and the master of this manor." Lucius told Theodore. "You will obey the rules of this manor or you will discover just how unpleasant the punishments can be." Theodore rolled his eyes. "And I will not tolerate any disrespectful behavior either. Your father may be easy to push around but you'll find what you're looking for if you want to go head to head against me."

"I am now utterly terrified of breaking any rules." Theodore's voice was so thickly layered with sarcasm that Draco whipped his head to make sure he didn't miss a moment of his father's reaction. Lucius' nostrils flared angrily and he pulled out his wand. Nott stepped in front of his son.

"Now, now Lucius, he's a bit angry about this transfer of residence." Nott's hands rubbed together. "You have to make some allowance…"

"Are you telling me how to run my own household, Nott?" Lucius' voice was a deadly whisper.

"N-no…" Nott shook his head, looking terrified. "I was only—" Lucius raised his wand.

"_Crucio_." He spoke the word and Nott fell to the ground, jerking at the intense pain and twitching horribly. He waved his wand again and Nott stopped but was panting heavily on the ground in front of Theodore, who hadn't seemed to notice his father at all. Lucius moved his gaze to Theodore again. "As I said, I don't tolerate disrespect in this household." Nott's glare had gone to a leaden gaze that made him seem more impetuous but he said nothing else.

Draco knew he must have some brain—probably got all the brains his father didn't have. Only a fool would have said anything else right then. Theodore's eyes flickered towards Draco and then back up at Lucius.

"This is my wife Narcissa; you will obey her orders unless I have given you an order otherwise." Lucius gestured towards his wife who only looked down her nose at Theodore. "And my son, Draco." Draco wanted to give Theodore some secret sign to show that he thought his actions were impressive but he could not think of any so he merely nodded his head at Theodore who did not return the gesture. Nott picked himself off the floor.

"I must be going; I have lots of business to attend to today." Nott excused himself, swallowing hard. He turned to Theodore. "Now, then, you have all your things, Theodore and remember what we talked about." Theodore gave his father a disdainful look.

"I can't remember a word you've ever spoken." Theodore informed his father. Nott faltered for a moment and then bowed repeatedly as he backed out of the foyer. The maids took Theodore's two trunks and started to take them up the stairs.

"Draco, why don't you accompany Nott to his room?" Lucius turned to his son and Draco carefully arranged his face so he didn't look pleased at all. Lucius and Narcissa turned and walked off in the opposite direction of the stairs.

Draco walked beside Theodore as they followed the maids but Theodore made no conversation and so Draco saw that he would have to wait to talk to him until there were no maids around to gossip about the conversation to his father.

As soon as they entered Theodore's room (which was down the hall from Draco's), Draco sent the maids away and told them to find something useful to do for once. Then he turned to give Theodore a smile to show that he approved of him but Theodore wasn't looking at him, just staring out the window.

Draco watched him stare out the window and he wondered if he was watching his father leaving. He hadn't seemed to care very much about his father, so this struck Draco as odd. That was until Theodore suddenly turned around.

"Good, he's gone." Theodore seemed to be talking to himself and then noticed Draco still standing in the room. He focused his strongest glare on the pale boy whose expression showed no sign of being intimidated. "What are _you_ still doing here?" His voice spat.

"I live here." Draco answered in a defensive manner. "And now so do you."

"I didn't want to move to this dump." Theodore's tone was venomous. Draco hadn't meant for the conversation to go this way at all. But what did he know of making friends? "I'm going to leave as soon as I can."

"I heard you ran away from your house." Draco sat down in one of the chairs.

"Thirteen times." Theodore's teeth were bared. "I ran away thirteen times."

"And you never made it?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "You didn't plan it very properly, did you?"

"Who asked you?" Theodore's eyes narrowed even further—something Draco hadn't even thought possible.

"I'm a Malfoy, nobody has to ask me." Draco folded his arms smugly. "Why did you keep running away?" He was genuinely curious.

"None of your damn business, that's why." Theodore snapped at him.

"It's no good doing that to me." Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't really care, I was just curious. You should be a little more careful around my father though."

"I don't care if he curses me." Theodore looked at with a funny sideways look that, along with his nose, made him look a bit like a rabbit. "Does he curse you?"

Draco was about to answer but he remembered immediately that his father had done the Cruciatus Curse on him a number of times when he was younger to make him behave. That's why he was always so quiet, even for a child. You learned lessons better with pain. But it struck him as something that wasn't Theodore's business, even if Draco was prying into the other boy's. It was completely different.

"He doesn't need to curse me, I'm smart enough to know how not to get cursed." Draco finally answered. "I guess your father isn't very clever…" He wondered what Theodore would say to this.

"Ha!" It was a short bitter bark of a laugh. "That moron has never picked up on anything, even if you're waving it in his face." Theodore looked somewhat satisfied to be insulting his dad. Draco thought that perhaps they _would _end up friends after all. "But you're an idiot if you don't even stand up to your own father."

"I pick my own battles." Draco interjected quickly, frowning.

"I'm sure." Theodore replied scathingly. "You looked like you were waiting for him to say 'jump'. You probably do everything he says."

"That's not true." Draco stood up, feeling every bit like he was lying. He was. "Your father doesn't even want you—he fobbed you off on us." Theodore's look showed Draco that he had found a weak point in Theodore's defense.

"Get _out_." Theodore's voice was barely above a whisper but Draco knew he was angry. "Get the hell out." Draco took his time doing so.

There was no way he would admit that Theodore had won the argument.

* * *

Even though Theodore treated everyone like he was plotting their murder, Draco still had to spend time with him. For one, they had lessons together. Theodore was just as good at Draco, which was gratifying because Draco didn't want to be held back on account of Theodore.

They didn't really speak unless to make snide remarks at each other. They fell into a regular routine of this, so regular that sometimes Draco would notice the time and just make a snide remark to keep things on schedule.

They had to have tea together. His father insisted upon this as part of Theodore's education on what a real son should be like. Draco had almost felt complimented on this until his father added that would have to pretend he was an acceptable son during this time.

Tea time was very quiet and usually they just sat there, draining a cup of tea and eating cakes (which Theodore rarely touched) before getting up and walking off in different directions. Theodore didn't attempt to runaway though, something that Draco couldn't understand. It always sounded like Theodore would bolt the second everyone turned their back on him.

Unfortunately, one day, Lucius announced that indeed, the Lestranges would be coming for dinner. Draco felt like he was going to throw up at the announcement but held it in until tea time. Apparently Theodore had been doing the same.

"I _hate_ dinner guests." Theodore kicked the leg of the table, jostling the tea things a bit. "It's just so they can remind themselves that they're all on the same side, part of the same stupid club."

"We're all on the same side." Draco pointed out in a deadpan voice.

"I'm not on anyone's side." Theodore declared and Draco couldn't help but want to know what he meant by that. You had to be on a side. You couldn't just stand there, being neutral. Could you? The idea of not being on the side that he was on was as foreign as it got.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"I mean I'm not for the stupid Lord Voldemort or the dumb goody-goody two-shoes in the Northern Mountains." Theodore told him. "It's stupid to be on anyone's side."

"Why?" Draco inquired, not knowing why this new stance was beginning to get at him.

"Comrades and all that, it doesn't actually exist. It's only convenience. The second that something falls apart, you can expect them to put a knife in your back." Theodore spoke bitterly. "That's why my father's such a fool. He's always scrambling to do what people tell him to do, but that's just stupid. If you're on your own side, you don't have to worry about any alliances or anything. You can just do what you like."

"Well I think that's stupid." Draco drew himself up importantly. "On this side, you're an heir to a legacy. On your own side you're nothing."

"Do you think being an heir means _anything_?" Nott asked challengingly, his eyes narrowed as always. Draco suddenly remembered his brother again.

_"Mother says that if you're an heir, you get everything and you can do anything you like."_

"No." Draco shook his head and he saw that Theodore looked surprised for a moment. "I don't think it means anything except that you get lots of money and power and an estate. Having those things is better than having nothing."

"A consolation prize." Theodore shrugged, his lips pursed. Then he glanced sideways at Draco. "What do you think of the Lestranges?"

"That they're disgusting." Draco was happy to be able to say this. "I hate them. They're idiots."

"I think that they've become so inbred that they can't tell left from right." Theodore commented dryly. They caught each other's eye and then went back to their tea. Draco knew for just a moment, they had come very close to becoming friends. That pleased him greatly.

But it didn't really help change the fact that the Lestranges were coming. The usual routine of getting scrubbed—although Draco did hear that Theodore bit one of the maids during his bath—and put in nice clothes. They were brought in to meet them in one of the sitting rooms.

Aunt Bellatrix had cackled with delight when she spotted Draco and had begun running her hands through his blonde hair.

"Such a pretty boy. Isn't he a pretty boy Rodolphus?" Bellatrix Lestrange had asked her husband; her eyes and smile just a little _too _wide. Rodolphus Lestrange smiled indulgently at his wife. "And this other one! You look like Nott…"

"He's his son." Draco told her and while his aunt was distracted, he moved enough away from her that she couldn't continue petting him.

"Ah, they've both grown into proper boys, haven't they?" Rabastan's eyes gleamed. "Come sit in my lap Draco."

"He's a bit old for that Rabastan." Lucius' voice cut through the air like a knife and Rabastan had a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"Well, I suppose he's a bit old to sit in his uncle's lap." Rabastan's eyes stayed on Draco. "Only, I've bought him this box of chocolates that I wanted to give him…" He pulled out a finely wrapped package with a bow. Draco would rather have eaten dirt than gone near those chocolates with his uncle offering them towards him.

"Come sit with me then little Theodore." Bellatrix patted the seat next to her. Theodore glared at her instead. "Ooooh, he's got spirit. I like that. Nott should have had come live at _our_ house."

"We would have made him welcome." Rabastan agreed. Then he turned, frowning a little at Draco. "What is it Draco? Don't like chocolates? Come and get them." Draco took one look at his father's face and knew he'd have to accept the box of candy. He stood well away from his uncle and grabbed the box with his arm out stretched. His uncle pulled it just out of reach. "Now come here, Draco, so I can look at you properly."

"Perhaps one of the maids should just take the chocolates, then." Lucius said and Rabastan made a sour face as a serving girl came and took the box from him. "Draco, sit next to your aunt, Nott, sit on her other side. Narcissa will be along shortly and then we can all go into the dining room."

Draco had to endure more petting, though Bellatrix seemed to be more in favor of petting Theodore, who actually tried to bite her hand after a little bit of that and so Bellatrix kept talking about how wonderful Theodore must be to have around the house—she wasn't joking.

Dinner was much better because the huge dining table made it so that there were empty places in between Theodore and him and everybody else. There was no conversation on their side, next to Narcissa Malfoy, who merely sniffed occasionally instead of actually saying anything. On the other side of the table, there was often raucous laughter from Bellatrix. When the two boys finished their dinner, they asked to be excused and they had been—much to Draco's uncle's disappointment.

Draco was so glad to be out of there and so was Theodore that they had raced up to their own rooms and not spoken to one another at all. Draco was putting on his nightclothes and absently listening to the chatter of the maids when something they said had struck him.

"Isn't that Nott boy just _awful_?" One of the maids complained in a low voice, thinking that Draco couldn't hear her.

"Well, what can you expect?" Another maid asked her. "Everyone knows he killed his own mother."

The idea that Theodore had killed his own mother made him freeze completely. He had been wondering about Theodore and why he was the way he was. Suddenly it made an awful lot of sense. But then if Theodore, who hadn't been impressed with anything about Draco or the manor, had killed his own mother, might be also be impressed by the fact that Draco had killed his brother?

He pulled on his dressing gown and raced along the corridor until he got to Theodore's room. He pulled open the door and stepped inside. The maids had already left Theodore's room and there he was, getting into bed. He stopped when he saw Draco.

"What are you doing in here?" Theodore asked him in his usual shrewd manner.

"I heard." Draco stated and Theodore just stared at him, almost like he was staring right through him. "I heard you killed your mother. Well, I killed my brother." He waited for a moment and saw Theodore's shaking form.

"You little _maggot_." Theodore's teeth were clenched together. "Just what the hell do you want with me? Why are you here! To brag about how you killed your goddamn brother? Why the hell would I care! You're just doing it because you want me to be pleased with you—that's it isn't it?" Theodore glared at Draco's startled expression. "I hate you. I think you're the worst kind of person. Always doing what others tell you to do. Always wanting everyone to like you. That's just stupid." Theodore picked up a book and threw it at Draco's head. Draco ducked just in time. Why was Theodore so angry? "You don't know anything!" And in the faint light of one of the lamps, Draco saw something shining in Theodore's eyes, something he couldn't quite place. It couldn't possibly be tears because Theodore Nott would never _cry_.

"I was—" Draco began but Theodore cut him off, throwing another book.

"GET THE HELL OUT!" Theodore yelled at him. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM! GET THE HELL OUT!" Draco had never heard Theodore yell. He had always supposed that Theodore just didn't yell. He could say things in a whisper that was just as bad as shouting. But now, seeing Theodore yelling, looking enraged, he felt…hurt. He had told Theodore a lie, something he had never actually stated out loud because he knew it wasn't true, all because he thought that Theodore might like to know but Theodore didn't want to know. Theodore didn't want to be near him at all.

_I thought we would be friends. _

_ And instead you just want to discard me, the way everyone discards me because deep down…deep down…_

_ Everyone knows I'm the second born son._

Draco fled the room, Theodore's angry face still emblazoned in his mind. He went to his own room, to jump into bed, and bury himself under the covers. It wasn't until he was in his room that he noticed something.

He was crying. He was crying because he should have stopped his brother and that even though he was dead, his memory still hung over Draco's like a victory banner. He was crying because the thing that had earned him respect all his life had lost all the respect he wanted from Theodore. He was crying because he hated this life, the way he just stood there and let things happen, had let that frog die. And the more he tried to hold back the tears, the harder them came out, in ferocious waves.

He had never been one for crying. As a child, whenever he cried, if his father caught him at it, he was given a dose of the Cruciatus Curse so he really had something to cry about.

Draco didn't know when his memories became dreams and he drifted off to sleep. He just remembered how exhausting it was to have all these things come pouring out of you in liquid form.

* * *

To Be Continued

* * *


	4. Part the Fourth

The home stretch…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Some mild swearing.

* * *

Adversary

Part the Fourth

* * *

It was different even then before. Draco and Theodore didn't say anything to eat each other at all. No snide remarks, nothing. They were utterly silent around each other. No one noticed, mostly because no one ever noticed anything in this house unless it was proving a distraction or interfering with the natural order that the household fell into.

Tea time was just as quiet as ever. They didn't even look at each other. Draco never felt the need to glance up and Theodore certainly didn't either. Draco was no longer eager to start a conversation and Theodore had never wanted any.

They went through the motions of the day until one day, it was clear that the Dark Lord was coming again. Draco sincerely hoped this meant that Crabbe and Goyle would come. He'd like the distraction. And see how Theodore liked that! He didn't need Theodore for anything.

But somehow he knew that he still wanted Theodore to like him, even though that seemed impossible right now. Why was Theodore so hard to manage? Did he really hate Draco? Or was it just because Draco knew about…

_He killed his mother._

_ I wonder if he really did or if it's like me and my brother…_

There was no chance to ask him of course. They had to go through the usual polishing as did the rest of the estate, just for the Dark Lord. But as it turned out, no other families were coming for this meeting. Apparently the Dark Lord just wanted to address Lucius.

Draco felt tempted to spy on this talk, mainly because it went on for several hours and during those hours; Draco and Theodore had to stand outside together, not uttering a word to the other.

Finally, the doors opened and they were brought inside. Voldemort's hood was turned towards them so Draco just assumed he was looking at them. He waited for Voldemort to make his sort of comment and then he could be sent on his way again.

But instead, the two boys were told to sit.

"You two have been selected for a very important job." Voldemort informed the two of them in a voice that suggested they would be overjoyed by his news. Draco didn't want to go anywhere and Theodore did what he always did—glared. "You have heard something of Dumbledore and his rebels; am I correct?"

"No." Draco lied right away. He had no way to explain how he knew except to admit that he spied on that meeting awhile back and he didn't want to do that in front of his father.

"You're lying." Voldemort told him easily, startling Draco a bit. No one could ever tell if he was lying. No one. "But that's alright, you're very good at it, no doubt you'll be especially useful. He runs a sort of school in the northern mountains for children who have magical abilities—not our sort, _peasants_. Now, my spy there will set you up as two young men who have run away from their houses and have no where to go. He will take you to the school and then you will keep your eyes and ears open. That's not difficult, is it?"

They both looked at him. Theodore spoke first.

"I'm not a spy." Theodore declared. "But I'd rather be anywhere than _here_." He shot a sideways look at Draco—the closest he had come to looking at him since their fight.

"Oh?" Voldemort sounded interested but Draco thought he was only doing it to prompt Theodore into speaking more.

"I think you're a coward of course." Theodore went on. "You're going to send in spies because you're too scared to attack this Dumbledore guy unless you think you're guaranteed the win. I don't see why people are scared of you." Draco's eyes went wide. Talking back to Lucius Malfoy was one thing, but this was _Voldemort_. Draco had never considered the idea before then.

Lucius could be heard sharply inhaling, probably awaiting Voldemort's retaliation to such words but there was none. Voldemort didn't say anything but Draco had the feeling that Voldemort was smiling somewhere in that hood.

"Interesting." Voldemort's hood tilted to one side. "I'm amazed that you're Nott's son. Although some would wonder why I'm sparing your life at this moment, I need more people like you, who are honest. I've too many spineless servants who are all running around trying to gain favor."

"I'm not on your side." Theodore grimaced. "I'm not _serving _you. I'm only going because I hate this place."

"Of course." Voldemort's tone was knowing and somewhat mocking. "And what about you, Malfoy?" Aware of his father's eyes drilling into the back of his head, Draco calmly answered.

"I'll go." He shrugged. "Doesn't sound difficult." He made his tone as nonchalant and uncaring as possible. Personally, he didn't like this idea one bit. He didn't want to be stuck with Theodore anywhere. Why couldn't Theodore just stay here?

Packing began immediately. It didn't take very long because Draco wasn't allowed to take many of his things. He had thrown a fit when he found out he couldn't take all his clothes and so just kept his very best things. (Though he doubted that a bunch of peasant orphans would know the difference.)

They were to leave the next day, in a carriage that headed north. Before he left, he said good-bye to his parents. His dad told him not to disappoint him and his mother sniffed at him. A dismal show of affection but he couldn't really expect an outpour of it after this many years without any. They didn't even acknowledge Theodore as being there.

The black carriage was very small and Draco and Theodore sat as far as way from each other as possible. With a yell and a cracking whip, Draco and Theodore were sent out into the world by Voldemort's orders.

_I wonder what sort of place this will be…_

The landscape started to roll past the window. It was all flat and boring and green. There wasn't much else to do but let it go past. Occasionally he would glance at Theodore but Theodore was looking stubbornly in front of him. They had spent all that time not speaking to each other but for some reason, in this carriage, going away to some unknown place, the silence was suffocating.

Draco scowled. He was not going to give in like this. It was one to be weak in private, with absolutely no one else around but it was quite another to show any sort of defeat to the enemy.

But then, was Theodore the enemy? Right now, it seemed to Draco that Theodore was the only other person in the world who was on the same plane of existence with him. Even though Draco was still angry with him. He wondered what it was that set Theodore apart for others.

_Maybe because…I respect him. For being his own person. _

_ And I can't think of anyone I really respect other than him, even now._

Scowling wasn't really helping. The tension in that carriage was beginning to give him a headache. Was it defeat? What did a Malfoy know of that concept?

"I didn't kill him." Draco spoke and Theodore's eyes swung towards him in one precise movement. "I didn't kill my brother."

"Why would I care?" Theodore asked in his usual scathing way.

"I just thought you should know." Draco shrugged, trying to look like he was so saying this merely for the sake of conversation and not because he wanted Theodore to talk to him. "You're the first person I've ever told."

Theodore looked at him for the longest time, looking for signs of treachery, or how this could be some sort of trap. Finally, not finding any, he glared at Draco. "What do you expect to happen now? That we'll suddenly become best friends?"

"No." Draco answered and tried his hardest not to look pleased by the slight surprise on the other boy's face. "I don't have friends. Neither do you. And I don't think you're all that brave myself. I think you're too scared to take a side."

Theodore only made a very irritated noise and looked out his window. Draco knew he had won that round and so folded his arms and slid to the floor of the carriage so he could lean against his own bench and put his feet up on Theodore's. The other boy glanced at him and then back out the window.

Draco leaned his head back so he was looking at the ceiling of the carriage and then closed his eyes, just letting the carriage rock him. He could feel and hear movement next to him and he looked over to see Theodore also sitting on the floor, leaned against his bench and his feet up on Draco's.

Although he thought Theodore could see him, he looked back up at the roof and smiled a very small smile.

_Friendship is a strange concept. _

_ But if we have an understanding…well, it's better than nothing._

_

* * *

_

Draco stuck his head out of the carriage for the second time that da_y_ and yelled at the driver because he felt that the driver was _purposely _hitting rocks with the wheels so that he and Theodore were jostled each time.

"He can't stop the _rocks_." Theodore rolled his eyes.

"He has a Malfoy in this carriage." Draco reminded Theodore who ignored him. "Malfoys don't get _jostled_."

They had been traveling for too long in that stuffy carriage, but Draco didn't want to admit it. So instead, he'd find an excuse to stick his head out the door and yell at the driver. Besides, he was sick of suddenly hitting his head on the window because the driver wasn't paying attention.

He wished they were there.

And as if by magic, the carriage rolled to a stop. Draco and Theodore went tumbling out, though it was funny to see Theodore not perfectly calm, but scrambling out as well. They got their bags and the carriage driver rode off. They were in the middle of nowhere.

"That stupid driver." Draco glared at the carriage as it grew smaller and smaller. "This better be the meeting place or I'm going to be very distraught."

"Well." Theodore looked around. "I'm off then."

"What?" Draco whirled around. "Where are you going?"

"I'm running away, what does it look like I'm doing?" Theodore folded his arms and glared defiantly at Draco. "There's no adults around to stop me. I'm going off to be _alone_. Don't follow me or I'll curse you."

"I don't think you will." The two boys turned to see a man standing there, a very formidable man with dark hair. "You're both coming with me."

"You're the person we're supposed to meet?" Draco felt vaguely disappointed. As formidable as the man might have looked, he was expecting someone a little more…spy-like. This guy looked like he stuck out like a sore thumb.

"My name is Severus Snape." The man raised an eyebrow at them in a fashion that reminded Draco vaguely of his father. "You're Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, correct?"

"Yes." Draco stepped forward.

"Come on then." Snape looked like he had many other things to do that day and had no spare minutes for them. "Or did they send me a pair of idiots who can't understand a simple command?" Theodore and Draco both approached. Snape held out an object. "Touch this and we'll be on our way."

"What's that?" Draco asked before reaching out to touch it. As soon as he did, Theodore also did and they didn't get an answer before both getting yanked into elsewhere.

_Here we go. _

_ This should at least be interesting._

_

* * *

_

The End

* * *

Time for notes!

Why did I write Draco's story? (By the way, there are going to be people there who I didn't write the story for.) I love Draco! He's such a complex character. Nothing is better than tackling those characters. And Theodore Nott, my favorite totally minor character. Well, I think I like Theodore because on J.K.'s website in her deleted scene notes, she talked about a scene she wrote between Draco and Theodore at Draco's manor, which she didn't get to put in, and she described Theodore as being kid who didn't believe in joining gangs—including Draco's. I was intrigued.

So, some comments for this story—the Lestranges were freaking creepy. I kept stopping while writing them and being like, "Ickyyyyyy." I had no control over them, they just did whatever they wanted. And what they wanted was to give me the goddamn heebie-jeebies.

The quote at the beginning of this story is one of my favorite Latin quotes. And it's so Draco!

The next story is called **Shape Shifter**. (Dare you to guess!) Please review! (I know Midnight Firefly will—she's been the first person to review the last two stories. Let's see if she can get three in a row.) Bye for now!


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